The Lifting of the Veil
by Fickle Luck
Summary: Dramatics and comical humor aside, he did not know how it could get worse. Meet the End. Everything is crumbling and not only is Yuuko too calm, Watanuki is feeling too altruistic. Completely on a whim
1. Act Four, Scene 1

It was bright and bleak because of the sunlight being filtered through clouds that were threatening to rain

_It was bright and bleak because of the sunlight being filtered through clouds that were threatening to rain. The trees were bare of petals or at least becoming bare as another rosy petal fell to an unmoving breeze, to a ring around the massive black trunk. _

_It was all coming to pieces; everywhere else was shattering, and everywhere here was trembling._

Invisible to everyone else at the time but herself and him, Watanuki walks through the unmoving mass of people with despair lining his coat.

His shoes drag slightly, his eyes wary of the shadows he spies on the ground, and a nervous slide of his fingers pushing his glasses up brings attention to a wrinkle between his eyes that is being seen more and more often, Yuuko notes. She pours a glass as he pauses to grab the newspaper delivered and forgotten in her mailbox.

The rosy liquid sloshes into another glass as the door to her shop opens.

_Dramatics and comical humor aside, he did not know how it could get worse. _

Watanuki looks aside from outside, from what was so far past his comprehension, turning to the sliding door with a lunar print that is already open, turning to Yuuko. His two eyes are two different colors with the same burning conviction.

Greeting exempt, Watanuki softly speaks, "Yuuko, it's all falling apart…what can I do?"

She realizes that he's come a long way, actually believing that he can do something to stop this from happening. It's enough to make her pause as she takes another swig of alcohol that burns.

She avoids his question. "This…is inevitable. Did you pick up the newspaper today?"

"_Don't give me that 'hitsuzen' crap!"_ Golden and blue, the epitome of his unique situation, are suddenly lively and angered by Yuuko's dispassionate red. It scares him that she's quiet, professional, and practically Victorian in her resignation.

"Everything starts moving towards the end as soon as it begins; we only have the luck of being there when it happens."

"_This_ is not 'luck'!" he exclaims, taking the glass out of her hand and slamming it onto the table, before slapping down a newspaper. "It was my birthday a while ago! There was a carrot cake! Himawari and Doumeki and Mokona and you ambushed me at the park to eat it all! Doumeki stole my share! I haven't come here in a while to catch up on schoolwork!"

The newspaper smells like crisp ink and cheap paper, and in capital letters underneath the newspaper's name, off to the side proclaims—

"– how long has it been the beginning of May?"

—May 1st, 2008.

"Three days."

"It's been three days of people that don't move, of ghosts and monsters that have been keeping me penned in my apartment. I was trapped. Doumeki came over after the _first_ May 1st and the second was used trying to figure out how far this reaches."

"How far does this reach?"

"We don't know — every time we walk outside of the city we wake up at the beginning of the day."

"hmm." She stares at a point on the floor.

"That's all? What is happening?!"

"Oh, that?" Yuuko bitterly smiles, "There are many names of it, one to match every religion, every culture, and every world." She spares a breath in reaching for her glass so rudely clattering with the table a moment before, before breathing out two words.

_"The apocalypse."_


	2. Act One, Scene 1

_The place was filled with mist, grey and white…and black_

_

* * *

_Author's Note: the only way to really tell the difference between these people—entities…is to look at their talking style!

cackle It wouldn't be as fun with indiscriminate pronouns…

It took a while because I got lazy. Though I kinda doubt anyone's been waiting for _this--_no offense, muses...

* * *

_There is a method to Fairytale Telling. First, as a precaution against the wriggling children, they must be under their covers. Done? Now make sure the pillow is nice and soft…don't forget the water by the bedside table. Dim the lights just enough to read…now flaunt those lessons from first grade up, making sure to keep voices even and soft…putting emphasis here and there…now the ending is coming up._

_And, like always, waiting are the words: "The End". _

_"The End" is: _

_Six letters long, two words thick, and tall enough to stop everyone in their tracks._

_Inevitable. _

_Short and abrupt and doesn't explain anything at all besides "there is nothing more to say". _

_And slowly, ever so slowly…voices grow softer and the light seems dimmer and the book closes. _

_And slowly, ever so slowly the child's heart lulls itself to sleep._

_The End._

At one point in time, separate from the other lines of time, there is a meeting. But, "meeting" suggests preplanned thought whereas in this company, they _"happened"_ upon the rest.

Shades of mist wafted around, not reflecting light, but finding enough to illuminate its sidling, drifting path to and around and through each other. This was a place for whispering talks about overthrowing governments, whispering secrets, and plotting nefarious plots.

The smoke and shadows never noticed when they came; they just shifted subtly enough to laze around the figures, hugging or shading their visage.

The dwellers lurked, looking at one another and commenced. Their language was a mix of many that boiled down into a common understanding between the four.

"Yuuko's been at her game again." A low voice, not in height, but in vocal range, and it grumbled, pausing once he—it—knew that everyone's attention was on him. "That boy of hers…"

"He's a yummy one; smells absolutely delicious…that is, before." A slithery voice drawled out its distaste. "He is no longer ignorant."

A tapping sound, of claws, of pointed steel, started before this one actually spoke. "This pawn has merely navigated halfway across the board—with the assistance of the queen." The tapping slowed to a stop. "…but now the pawn shall be alone."

"Excellent!" The scaly voice hissed.

Movement flashed, a new entity appeared from the mist. "He's already prey to many."

"So? We know how to make 'one' into 'many'; we'll hold an auction and bid off piece, by piece, by piece…the pinky is enough to entice many…"

A quick sideway glance of annoyance; "You forget; he is _ally_ to many as well."

"Persuasion tactics will be employed."

A grumble. "Treason! Break the bonds and you will break them!"

"Like you haven't thought of it…"

"Like you have _dared_ to test them."

There was silence filled with nearly crossed lines and fragile patience. The decision to depart was one eagerly accepted and one by one, the expanse of shadows sifted and shied until it was empty save one, who, with the hiss of sin, breathed out its last thought on the entire matter:

_"Treason is only dangerous when you have witnesses…"_

With the rest of the shadows as the words' audience, the echo rippled into the void.

Finally, it was empty.

And the shadows blurred from hours, to minutes, to seconds, until even that became softer and slower like a child falling asleep.

Softly, the seconds started to trickle down.


End file.
